


Reflections from a Mirror Image

by UltraSwagnus



Category: leaving blank for personal reasons
Genre: Gunplay, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Selfcest, Sticky Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29915193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltraSwagnus/pseuds/UltraSwagnus
Summary: gee post! how come your mom let's you have TWO expresses?a fic about an express clone being spit roasted by express and post's gun
Kudos: 2





	Reflections from a Mirror Image

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HappyGriffTime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyGriffTime/gifts).



Express had never gotten a vacation before. It had taken him aback when his employer had told him to take a week off. He didn’t complain, though. Post hated it when anyone complained, and he made sure you knew it if you did. So the mail truck did as he was told, which is what had been programmed deep into his subconscious circuitry since he first came online, and planned a trip to enjoy himself.

He had seen some pamphlets going around the post office for an outer world cruise liner. He’d kept a copy in his subspace and took it out during his fuel breaks, looking over the list of activities and envisioning himself being in the images. Express had saved up enough credits in hopes that one day he might be able to splurge a little and take this trip for himself, and now he also had the time off to actually go and do it.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt great.

* * *

There was a smile on his face as Express walked back into work. He felt as though nothing Post could throw at him would dampen his mood.

But he knew better than to hold on to that feeling for too long.

Walking about the façade that was the ‘Post Office,’ the orange mech was quick to pick up on the expression of his ‘co-workers’ when he made optic contact with them in passing. It was if they didn’t want to look at him at all, like he was a painful memory. Anytime he waved to someone or said hello, he was met with empty words and shallow gestures.

Had something happened while he was away? Why was everyone acting so strangely around him?

...Had he been let go and no one told him?

Perhaps, but he needed to find out for himself. And unfortunately, that meant one thing.

_He needed to confront Post._

Express’ spark began to sink in its casing as he approached the door to Post’s private office in the back. Old memories began to play in his memory coils, and it made him wish that he was still on vacation.

But he went in anyway.

* * *

The room was dimmed, and it took a second for his optics to adjust the brightness for him to see clearly. He saw Post at his desk, reclining into his seat, helm back and intake open. Post groaned lustfully, and a mix of discomfort and arousal pulsed through Express’ neural network.

With a closer scan of the situation, the orange mech could tell that someone was on their knees on the opposite side of the desk giving the larger mech head. This was a good enough cue as ever for him to leave, so Express turned and started to do just that.

But not before Post called him out on it.

“Where the hell do you think _you’re_ going?”

_Nowhere, apparently._

Express turned back around to face Post, who was half sneering at him. By the sound of things, he was spilling himself down the intake tubing of whoever he was victimizing in that moment.

 _“I’m glad that’s not me,”_ Express thought to himself.

“Come over here and play with yourself,” Post said to him, an audible pop punctuating his sentence, as whoever had been serving him removed his spike from their intake.

This wasn’t the kind of work Express had wanted to get back into when he returned from vacation, but he knew Post well enough that it would be in his best interest if he did what he was told. Without hesitation, he opened his spike housing and initiated a pressurizing override. Soon his spike was firmly in his grasp and he began to tug on himself.

It was going to be the same old song and dance. He would touch himself for a bit, giving Post the show he so desperately desired. Then, the larger mech would mostly likely get up and put his hands on him, probably force him into a more fragable position. That’s how things would usually go, when Post was in a more casual mood. But with the other person in the room, there was no telling what Post had in mind or in store for him. Either way, Express found it best to just try and think of something pleasant until it was all over.

He wasn’t expecting Post to chuckle at him, though. That was new.

“That’s not what I meant,” said Post.

Express gave a confused look, his spike still hard in his grip.

Slowly, Post began to raise up the helm of whoever had just sucked him off for Express to see, and his optics widened as his mental processor recognized who it was.

_It was himself._

“Now,” Post began again, _“play with yourself.”_

* * *

_Was this wrong?_

_How was this possible?_

_Was this some kind of dream, or would it turn into a nightmare?_

These were a few of the questions Express had asked himself internally, but they disappeared from his mind when the sensations of his tongue grazing against his clone came flooding in and took over.

He could hear his other self moan into his own mouth as he took over, the clone’s hands gripping tightly onto his backplate, and digging his fingers into any seam they could find. Express could feel heat rising up to his face plating.

The pair melted into each other’s mouths as they kissed, desperate and hungry for the self inflicted affection. Express, knowing what felt good for himself, made the decision to get a little frisky with his doppelganger. He pulled away from his twin, breaking their kiss, and moved his mouth to his finial, where he started nibbling on it. The other mech cooed and moaned as the nibbling evolved into gentler bites. Both mail trucks’ arrays began heating up and initiating lubricant releases as they took turns biting and sucking on various neck cables and helm kibbles.

* * *

Post was still reclining in his office chair, lazily jerking his erection as he watched Express make out with his counterpart, each mech straddling one of his knees. Buying that cold constructed copy was looking like a promising investment, but he couldn’t deny how much he preferred the original.

The ‘temporary’ Express was sloppy and inexperienced. He didn’t know what he was doing unless guided and given a series of orders. It was frustrating. Post thanked Primus that the original Express was already broken in.

 _“Enough,”_ Post interrupted. “I have something else in mind...”

* * *

Express couldn’t help but blush again when he gently fragged his clone from behind. The mech that was sprawled out on Post’s desk was moaning and arching his back strut, quite clearly enjoying what was being given to him. Express couldn’t help knowing where his buttons were and how he liked them to be pressed and poked.

Post sat in his chair still, the doppelganger facing his frame. The smaller mech’s mouth was open, spitting out gasps and moans as the original Express fragged him nicely. Thick strands of oral solvent dripped down onto his spike.

Seeing his mouth open like that gave Post _another idea._

From his subspace he pulled out a blaster.

“Let’s play pretend. Here’s my spike.”

Holding the blaster in one hand, he gripped the Express’ throat with the other to keep him in place. Post watched delightfully as the smaller mech licked at the barrel of the gun, still moaning from the spike pushing in and out of his wet valve.

“You make too much damn noise,” Post observed aloud. The Express on his desk could feel Post’s fingers wrapping tighter around his throat. He opened his intake in response, which is just what Post wanted. The larger mech inserted the barrel of the weapon into his mouth, as deep as it would go. Express made muffled gasps and choking sounds, but Post’s grip kept him from doing anything about it.

“Let’s play a little game, shall we?” Post asked rhetorically, cocking the gun and resting a finger around the trigger.

Terrified optics glowed back at him, which made Post’s spike twitch. 

Express watched as the scene unfolded below, huffing out hot vents of air as he continued fragging his frightened self.

“Don’t overload until I tell you to. And _you,”_ he said, speaking to the original Express. “Keep doing what you’re doing. If I’m going to keep him around, he needs to learn to control himself.”

* * *

_“Don’t move too much or I might accidentally pull the trigger. Or maybe I’ll do it anyway. We’ll see...”_

Fragging his clone was proving more and more difficult, as he felt himself getting closer to overloading. He tried not to think about how hot it would be to fill his own valve up with his transfluid, as that might get him to the tipping point too soon. Luckily, or rather, _unfortunately,_ the sounds of his counterpart sniveling and whining from fear were off-putting enough to keep him from getting there.

Not wanting to overload just yet, and prolong the pleasure he was giving to his other self, he slowed his pace a little. He hoped it wasn’t enough of a change to make Post notice, as there was no telling what his reaction would be.

And with there being a loaded gun in play, he didn’t want to take any risks.

“Why’d you slow down?” Post asked with an irritated tone.

_Slag._

“I...I’m getting close...” he answered back reluctantly.

“Heh. Of course you are, slut,” Post replied. “Go on then. Overload. I don’t care. As long as _this one_ doesn't.” He emphasized his words by pushing the gun a little further down the Express’ throat, causing some tears that had welled up to trickle down his cheeks.

He felt sorry for himself, seeing the barrel invade his other self’s intake like that, but Express couldn’t help but be glad it wasn’t him in that position.

Given the ok from his employer, Express resumed his original pace, chasing his overload. He had to admit, it was a nice change of pace to be the one doing the thrusting instead of being the one thrusted into. But with him being back from vacation, he knew it wouldn’t be long before Post would be impaling him on his spike once again.

Ah, and that was it. The thought of Post stuffing him with his thick spike was enough to send him over the edge.

“Ha-aah… Aaaa…!!” he moaned aloud, following up with soft grunts that went with harder thrusts. His internal optical signals flashed white as his array system sent out messages alerting him that he was emptying his transfluid tank into his twin. It was hot and warm, and Express savored the moment.

Because knowing Post, he didn’t know if he’d ever have the chance to again.


End file.
